


Wrongful Arrest

by arsenicarose



Series: Dr. Spencer Reid: Drabbles, Fluff, Short Fics, and More [3]
Category: Criminal Minds, Spencer Reid - Fandom
Genre: F/M, Fluff and Flirt, Mentions of manipulative relationship, Reader-Insert, You as a suspect
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-25
Updated: 2017-06-25
Packaged: 2018-11-18 15:44:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,800
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11293743
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/arsenicarose/pseuds/arsenicarose
Summary: You don't you didn't do anything wrong, so why not have some fun? Fun like teasing and flirting with the cute and nervous FBI agent who puts the handcuffs on, much to everyone's amusement.Stand alone fanfic in a series of stand alone fanfics.Please feel free to make requests in the comments. :)





	Wrongful Arrest

You know you haven’t done anything wrong, but the FBI agents are still in your house. You had been doing dishes when a parade of guns came in behind you. You try to remain calm, reminding yourself that you are innocent of whatever they are arresting you for.

“Put your hands in the air!” A tall, severe looking man says.

“I’m sorry, but I don’t know what this is about,” you reply, putting your hands up. They are wet, and the water drips down to your elbows.

The youngest agent comes up to you and puts your hands behind your back. “You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law.”

You lean into him, teasing. “If I say, ‘Your body,’ will it be used against me?"

He stammers for a moment, and the African-American agent bursts out laughing, only stopping when the severe one gives him a look.

The cute agent behind you continues reading your Miranda Rights and cinches the handcuffs on your wrists. You decide to keep going.

You let a low groan, and say, “Normally I wouldn’t let things get this kinky on our first date, but you have found my weak spot.” You pretend to swoon into him.

He catches you, and you look into his brown eyes. His face is scarlet, and this amuses you. The African-American agent is covering his mouth with his hand, but it doesn’t cover the sputtering laughter that escapes him.

You grin at the embarrassed agent. “My name is Y/N. What’s yours? I like to know the names of people who handcuff me”

He helps you right yourself, and he is standing behind you. You can feel his lithe body only an inch away. “Spencer. Um, does- do you- are handcuffs… common?” 

“If I’m having a good night.” You wink at the African-American agent, who is enjoying this far more than his apparent superior wants him to. With that action, he has leave. You hear the peels of his laughter echoing outside.

You can’t see Spencer’s face, but you imagine it is its own heat source now. This makes it easier for you as he leads you into the back of the waiting car.

\---

Spencer doesn’t get in the car with you, and you don’t see him when you go to the station. You are a little disappointed. Hopefully, when this ordeal is all over, you can get his number.

The African-American agent and a woman with straight brown hair enter your interrogation room. “Hello, Y/F/N. My name is Derek Morgan, and this is Emily Prentiss.”

“Nice to meet you,” you say, smiling.

“That was some stunt you pulled at your arrest,” Emily comments. Derek has to turn away for a moment to compose himself.

“What can I say? He’s cute. Gotta have some fun while being wrongfully arrested.” You grin at the mirror, assuming it’s two-way.

“You are incorrigible,” Derek says, trying to control himself.

“I try. But anyway, what am I here for? I’d like to resolve this as soon as possible. With luck, I may have a hot date tonight.”

A snort escapes Emily, and she covers her mouth. “Ahem. Excuse me. We are here to discuss your ex-boyfriend, Emory Moray.”

You scoff and sit back in your seat. Fucking asshole. “What about him?”

“He’s dead, and so is his girlfriend,” Derek says, suddenly serious.

That is news to you. Emory was such a terrible boyfriend, and you had managed to free yourself from him. That didn’t mean you didn’t still have feelings for him. It was incredibly hard to let go, and sometimes you fantasized about going back to him. You had broken up 10 months ago, and you hadn’t spoken to him since. You hadn’t dated anyone new either. Maybe that was why you flirting with your arresting officer. Spencer seemed sweet, and you are a little lonely.

“My god,” you whisper, “Oh Emory. How did he die? Was it quick? Wait, his girlfriend?!” It hit you then. He had moved on to manipulating some other girl. He had seemed so hurt by the breakup, but clearly it wasn’t that bad. You feel tears spring to your eyes and you blink them away. You shouldn’t cry over him, especially not in front of the agents.

Emily and Derek exchange a look you can’t read. Finally, Emily says, “He and his girlfriend were beaten to death with a blunt object, probably made of metal.”

The need to cry resurges. That wasn’t quick at all. You had thought of hurting Emory before, of course. Once you realized what he had been doing, you had wanted to hurt him, but not that badly. Just a punch in the face, maybe a swift kick in the nuts. “How long had he and the girl been dating?”

“According to our research, they had been officially together for eight months,” Morgan answers.

It’s all too much at once. Emory, beaten to death, with a girl he picked up less than two months after you left him. Your eyes fall to the table. “Can I have a minute?”

The agents look at each other curiously. After a moment of silent communication, they nod. Both of them walk out of the room, and the door closes with a gentle thud.

You turn as much as you can with your hands cuffed to the table, trying to face away from the probable two-way mirror. Tears run unbidden, and you hate them. You thought you had gotten all this out months ago, but apparently not. You felt weak. Maybe some part of you hoped that he would improve, take the time to get better, and come back to you a new man. Now, he was dead, murdered with your replacement.

After a few minutes, you hear the door open. You don’t turn, but you hear careful footsteps.

“Y/N, are you alright?” It’s Spencer. God dammit, you should have waited to flirt until you knew what this was about. You knew you hadn’t done anything, but you should have assumed it had something to do with Emory. He always managed to cause trouble for you. He left seeds of it in your life, seeds that you would find weeks and months later. And here was another.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” you lie. You know your tear-stained voice is giving you away, but you lie anyway. What else can you do?

Spencer taps your shoulder, and you turn to him. He is holding a box of tissues and a sympathetic face.

You take the tissues and dry your tears.

“So you cared about Emory?” Spencer asks.

“Of course I did. I just- He was so- He used me. When I realized it, I knew I had to get out before it got worse. But I still- God, I’m so pathetic. I hoped he was using the time apart to get better. But he was using someone else. I didn’t want to be used again, but-” you trail off. What did you want? You look into Spencer’s eyes. It looks like he understands, like he is hearing you. It makes you feel better.

“Did Emory have any enemies?”

“Oh definitely. He manipulated anyone that he could. He had a trail of ex-girlfriends a mile long. That should have been a red flag… Or when I got the letters.”

You clearly peaked Spencer’s interest. “Letters?”

“Yeah. From some ex, I don’t remember who. He told me to ignore them so I did. They kept coming, but I just recycled them as they came.”

“Do you still have any of them?”

“No, like I said, I recycled them. He told me to ignore them, so I got rid of them all. I didn’t want to be tempted to reply.”

“Would his new girlfriend have received these letters?”

You sigh. “Probably. I started getting them about six months in, when we were getting ‘serious.’ Got them until we broke up. And one after we broke up. I didn’t read any past the first.”

“What did the first one say?”

“You know, basic jealousy stuff. ‘You aren’t good enough for him. He needs a real woman, like me. Let him go, you stupid slut.’ I showed it to him, and he told me it was his crazy ex. She couldn’t accept that he was done with her. I understand it better now. He hollows you out. If I hadn’t left, I think he would have taken my all and left me then.”

Spencer puts a hand on yours and squeezes comfortingly. “Thank you for being honest. You have been a real help. We have to hold you a little longer, but don’t worry.”

You want to ask if the agents think you did it, but you hold your tongue. Either they can’t tell you, or you don’t want to hear it.

\---

You sit in that room for several more hours. Spencer comes in twice more to check in, offer you food and water, and see if you have anything else to tell them. You start to feel a lot better after the initial shock and put things in perspective. You are finally free. You will mourn Emory, but you are free.

Spencer’s final visit is to let you go. “We found letters that were similar to the ones you described in the girlfriend’s apartment. The difference was, she wrote back. Her responses, unfortunately, antagonized the person who wrote them. The killer went to the girlfriend’s apartment to get rid of her, but Emory was there. It escalated farther than she thought it would. We have her in custody now.”

You smile numbly. At least they caught her. All the bad people got their comeuppance. Except Emory’s new girlfriend. You imagine she was a victim in all this, manipulated into a fierce affection that ultimately killed her. “Thank you, Spencer. I appreciate you telling me.”

He nods and looks to the floor for a moment. “You know, uh, since you aren’t a suspect… I mean, I did handcuff you. I feel like I owe you coffee.”

“Spencer, are you asking a suspect out on a date?”

“You aren’t a suspect anymore,” he replies, not addressing the date part.

“Fair enough… I’d love to. Wanna pick me up around 8? I assume you already know where I live.” You wink at him, and he blushes.

As he leads you out of the station, you see Derek give Spencer a thumbs up. Spencer’s response is a playful glare.

When you get to the door, he looks awkwardly about, not sure how to end things.

You wrap your  arms around him. He seems alarmed by it at first, but he hugs you back.

“See you tomorrow,” you murmur.

“Yes, tomorrow.”


End file.
